Outatime
by eoraptor
Summary: Not everyone gets to go back in style in a DeLorian. Shego's experiences with contract voiding missions.
1. Chapter 1

**_"Outatime"_**

 _By Eoraptor_

 _Rated T for Teen, all characters property The Walt Disney Company_

* * *

Shego made a face at the way her fingers stuck to the steering wheel. Hard and vinyl and coated with years of… something. But, it was a nineties Toyota, brown, nondescript… unlikely to draw nearly as much attention as the hoverpod or her F430 in Appletini Green.

And it had enough trunk space to store the thing that the doc had sent her after. A…

"Quantum mass temporal disentanglement matrix." She read off the memo hastily scribbled on the post-it stuck to the steering wheel. "I swear to Goddess in Heaven, do they just pick words out of a dictionary?"

Whatever it was, it was a plumbing nightmare; a glass jar of neon purple goo attached with pipes and electrical conduits plumbed to a big block of machined aluminum with switches and one of those little flat screens they were starting to put on the phones. On one end of the metal body were a few big copper connectors inside a rubber gasket, so this thing obviously was meant to be plugged in to something with a hell of an electrical kick. A couple of angry looking red switches nearby too.

She rolled her eyes as she picked her way down the suburban streets of Middleton CO. At least it wouldn't be mistaken for a coffee thermos like that damned vortex inducer.

"Geebus Marty and Broseph!" She screamed and sank her taloned gloves into the plastic of the wheel; wrenching it to the left as a mountain lion leapt down from a tree in front of the car.

She had just enough time to see Kim Possible chasing it down the street before she saw the telephone pole squarely in front of the Corolla. And then all she saw was stars as the front of the car folded itself around the pole and her head exploded against the wheel.

It took Shego a few minutes to come around and stumble out of the car. Looking around, she knew the knock to the head must have been bad. She was obviously hallucinating.

Somehow the telephone pole, as well as most of the houses along, the way had turned invisible.

The green themed villainess concentrated on forcing her mind to clear. Even with meteoric enhanced abilities, it took a few moments for her head to stop spinning and settle down to a dull roar. Then she turned around to see how bad the car was.

"Fuckit… totaled." She muttered, scuffing a boot along the asphalt.

The stout wooden pole might be missing, but its impression remained in the front of the car, a neat U-shaped punch-out right down the centerline.

After a moment, she kicked the headlight housing that was dangling out of the shattered front end. It dropped to the asphalt of the street with a clatter. Her eyes followed it and she noticed that something was astray in the mid-morning sun.

Reaching down, she picked up the lens, which was surprisingly intact aside from a crack where it had hit the pavement. The material, which had been a milk, chalky, and useless plate of aged plastic a few minutes ago now was clear as crystal.

Still reeling a bit, Shego stood back and looked at the smashed car. Aside from the impact damage it looked good as new. Which was where the discrepancies came in. The paint had, just moments before, been waxy, and peeling in places over the hood and roof. The fenders and runners had rust in all the likely locations. One of the wheel covers was missing, and the bumper sticker which once had boasted of an honor student at Middleton Prepatory was half-off.

In short it had been a thirteen year old beater of an econo-car being used by some college kid. Which was why she had chosen it for her incognito escape plan.

Now it looked fresh off the lot; aside from having been wrapped around an apparently invisible wooden pole. The chalky headlights, the grey primer, the rust pocks and faded bumper sticker; all were gone.

"…the hell?"

With a sneaking suspicion borne of years-long exposure to super science, Shego moved to the back of the crumpled car. A flick of one of her claws in the lock and the trunk popped open, confirming her fears.

The quantum whatchamawhosit was smashed. The glass portion had broken open and spilled its purple goop all over. But that wasn't all: around the spot it should have been smeared, was instead a carbonized black scorch, surrounded by spot welds where electrical arcs had rocketed out of the gadget and into the metal frame of the car.

Looking around, the villainess sighed. Wherever she was, was not exactly where she had left. And there was only one house the block, an upscale suburban spot. Kids in the yard and everything, so she couldn't exactly hole up there till Drakken brought a pod.

She settled back inside the smashed car, and lamented she hadn't stolen a version with an airbag, since her head was still ringing and she was sure her nose had a crease in it from hitting the wheel. First she picked her jPhone out of her pocket to check it. The screen was cracked badly in a spiderweb, but even if it wasn't… it showed zero bars.

Sighing she flicked on the radio. Surely even Drakken would be smart enough to be along before the police responded to her stolen and smashed car.

 _"Like a moth to a flame  
Burned by the fire  
My love is blind  
Can't you see my desire  
Like a moth to a flame  
Burned by the fire My love is blind  
Can't you see my desire?  
That's the way love goes"_

Shego blinked and looked at the dial. She was sure she was listening to the local pop hits station. The last song she remembered playing had been Britina's new summer track. But this song was almost as old as this car was. Back when people with the last name Jackson were considered musical talents instead of circus performers.

Sighing she was about to reach for the dial when the local yokel jockey came on, "And that was the top single off of ' _Janet_.' And while you're out looking for that cassette single this weekend, remember Jurassic Park continues to be tops at the theaters, blowing out its opening weekend with an unheard of forty-seven million dollars, including three mill just on midnight Thursday."

The villainess looked archly at the glowing green LED and shook her head. With morbid curiosity she surfed the dial some more. Porno for Pyros, Shania Twain, Genesis, Gloria Estefan… it was like old home week on the speakers. The fact that there even was a DJ and not just an endless computer generated playlist was an oddity.

With dawning horror, she flicked it off and looked at what had been a crowded and mature suburb before she crashed the car. It was now a fetal housing development at the very edge of Middleton, complete with prairie dog holes and unfinished lawns, "Oh no… no fucking way… huh-uh… my contract CLEARLY states no time travel. That BASTARD!"

She pounded on the steering wheel futilely and screamed her frustrations. "Drakken you asshole!"

* * *

 _AN: A oneshot I dug out of my files while looking for something else. Decided to neaten it up and post it. Enjoy, and remember,_ _ **Reviews = Love**_ _and_ _ **Sharing is Caring.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_"Outtatime"_**

 _Chapter 2_

 _By Eoraptor_

 _Rated T for Teen, all characters property The Walt Disney Company_

* * *

Shego waited a good fifteen minutes in the wrecked car. Enough time to listen to TLC, Boyz2Men, Vanessa Williams, and Eric Clapton, as well as a live DJ. Finally she decided to listen to her criminal instincts and unass the area before the police showed up.

She paused only to grab the disentangle whatsit from the trunk before disappearing into the sparse woods next to the road. It was only once she was well into them that she paused to remember the big cat Kimmie had been chasing.

"Well, I'm a big girl, I can deal with a cat. Besides, it's the nineties. Those things and wolves aren't even around here yet, right? Still locally extinct or something." Content in her misguided time-traveler's logic, Shego set about finding an area to camp out and better gather her thoughts.

First things first. She needed a better idea on _when_ exactly she was. That thought by itself was mind-bending, knowing the where but not the when. Time-traveler logic told her that she needed to know the when, so that she wouldn't accidentally run into someone she knew; or worse, herself.

Problem was, the only clues she had right this moment was the car was now new, and the music on the radio.

"Wait, the disk jockey said… yeah, Jurassic Park has just opened in Theaters… so this is… uh… what year did that come out…?" the villainess cursed herself momentarily for forgetting key points of pop-culture history. Then it came to her in a round-about way, "What two academy award winning movies did Steven Spielberg direct in 1993? Answer is Jurassic Park and Schindler's List. Got it! Thank you Trivial Pursuit!"

Well, that narrowed it down to one year… She had to do better than that though. Well, the big dino show was a summer movie, so it had to be summer time. Looking around, Shego felt rather stupid in that assessment. She was surrounded by green trees, so of course it had to be summer. "So… June, July August. Okay, that gets me at least a somewhat narrow window to work with. Now, is there anyone alive in 1993 I know who could help me without seriously fucking up the space time dealie?"

Her first thought was Possible. The girl was a do-gooder who had even gone so far as to help save Shego's own family. Then she did the math. If Possible was like 17 in the present; she couldn't be more than five or six now. A kindergartner, even Kim Possible, was unlikely to be of much help in this particular predicament. Her parents were even less likely to be helpful. Her father hated Shego on sight as "Circus folk," and her mother… well she wouldn't yet remember Shego tying her up one mother's day a decade hence, but… she didn't think there would be much a budding brain surgeon could do to solve time travel.

Possible's grandmother might be able to help… but that would entail finding and convincing her of the situation. And Shego knew her by reputation only, and so lacked any sort of personal cues which might get her green-booted foot in the door.

"Which leaves Drakken." She muttered darkly to herself.

Certainly he met the criteria. He knew about both regular and mad science. He had a fairly uncommon name in "Drew Theodore P Lipsky" and therefore could be tracked down in a pre-google age. And she knew enough about him to bluff her way through the door.

But it was still Drakken.

The guy who had put her in this mess in the first place.

Plus, she still had to find him. She knew he had gone to a college in Middleton in the eighties… and she had met him in Miami in 2000… but in between?

"Okay… One step at a time Shego… first step, you need a disguise." She counseled herself. Particularly because, if this was indeed 1993, Team Go had yet to become public; and she couldn't go round flashing the catsuit or the powers for fear of screwing the temporal pooch.

Which led to a problem. She was… well… green. Sure in the dark of night she could pass for a whiter shade of pale; but in broad daylight her minty undertones were fairly obvious. "So; makeup, clothes, shoes…"

Her stomach chose that moment to add to the list, audibly grumbling, "And food."

 ** _-outtatime-_**

Clothes had to come before anything else. She could easily pocket makeup, maybe even shoes… but she was sure to attract attention walking into any mall in Middleton in a kelly green and black catsuit.

"Then again, maybe not," She realized as she watched from her hiding spot as some teens rollerbladed past. "God, and they say I wear eye-bending colors? Teal and Orange?!"

Still, her catsuit was still more utilitarian looking than casual, almost militant with the high color and boots. She'd have to make at least some modifications. A moment later a likely looking candidate strolled right into view.

She grabbed the suburban kid right off the pavement and dragged him back into the deep woods. He squirmed and struggled, but did not cry out for whatever reason.

Sizing him up, she immediately knew the type; bored suburbanite trying to buy his way into a grittier life than he actually had _or_ wanted. Probably listened to Ice Cube on a Columbia House CD and thought it made him edgy. An easy mark for someone who actually _was_ gritty and tough.

"Jacket and shoes. Now."

The kid had the gall to look startled and insulted at her demand. Yup, privileged.

Shego flashed him the titanium claws that tipped the gloved fingers of her right hand, "Did I stutter?"

He cowered a little, but still wasn't moving fast enough for her liking, so she used those claws on a nearby tree, relieving it of a nice portion of its bark. "Now!"

That display got results, as he quickly shucked off the leather jacket and the too-pristine Reeboks on his feet.

"Now beat it before I beat you… and if anyone asks, you sold them for crack, got it?!" she sneered before sending him scurrying.

The black leather jacket fit well, but the shoes were a bit big on her. She had a size 8 boot-print. That meant that the _men's_ size 8 the kid was wearing was almost three sizes too big on her. Still, if she remembered correctly, baggy was in, or about to be so. So it would do for now.

Besides, better too loose than too tight, right?"

The villainess left the time thingy and her boots and gloves at her designated random spot in the woods and started walking towards Middleton proper.

Then she thought better of that and went back, moving camp to a different spot a mile away, just in case the kid forgot his instructions and came back or brought cops to that particular spot.

Finally, as the sun was moving low behind the Rockies and she could assume her skin would pass for near normal, she began walking.

 ** _-outtatime-_**

A half hour into her trudge, she was reassessing her decision to ditch her boots for these too-loose shoes. She was going to have some righteous blisters. Apparently too big really was just as bad as too small.

"Okay, suburban shopping mecca dead ahead." She sighed heavily as Middleton Mall, the gleaming, relatively new Middleton Mall, finally came into view.

Stepping inside was an assault on eyes and the fashion senses. How had anyone ever thought this much neon was cool? Well, not her. Hego had designed their costumes.

Which was why she still wore one, to stick it to her big brother at every opportunity how gaudy they were and yet how well she could sneak in them.

Shego's initial plan of attack was simple. Lift some cash. Well, her FIRST first plan had been grab some plastic. But then she saw someone writing an honest-to-goodness check and reminded herself of when she was. Besides, cash was far harder to trace.

A few quick pocket dives and she had a couple hundred bucks to work with. Her next stop was an easy choice. She needed makeup to play up, or down, her unique skin tone. And only one store in the mall was likely to carry that.

Hot Topic wasn't quite as she remembered it from her days as a youth, but by her guestimate, those memories were probably three or four years into the future yet; so of course a few things would be different.

Barring that, they did still have black and grey and silver makeup and good foundation, and a few choice tee shirts. Also a few bits of body jewelry, which she did remember was quite the new and hip dangerous trend at this point.

She pocketed the makeup, and bought a shirt and a nose stud. After all, if she altered her looks a bit more, it could only help avoid any kid of time shenanigans with people recognizing her later.

Next stop was a shoe emporium. She traded the over-sized Reeboks for a properly fit pair of Air Jordan's in a more thematic color (although where she would have preferred green with the black, there was only Bull's Red).

Twenty minutes in the mall bathroom with her purchases and Shego came out looking every bit like she belonged in 1993. Her top half was cloaked in the leather jacket and a loose black Band tee shirt, and the lower half of her catsuit now looked like anyone's neon-and-black nineties tights above the shoes and socks. There was the little silver stud she had shoved through her left nostril. Sometimes rapid healing powers came in really handy. She also made her lustrous hair even bigger with a bit of teasing, and finished the act off by using the purloined makeup to turn her grey-green skin into a fashionable Shirley Manson pale with the heroin chic eyes.

"Eh, I like smokey eyes better," she lamented on what this look would eventually evolve into before giving herself final approval to walk back out into public.

She almost walked back out of the mall before she spotted, of all things, an actual bank of functioning pay phones. In 2006 these things qualified for enshrinement in a museum… but here?

Thoughts of "freaqing" and slug coins and pre-paid phone cards all sprang to her mind. Only then did the more obvious use of these dinosaurs present itself… in the dog-eared pages of the paper phonebooks attached to them.

She marched up to one and started looking. Stupidly she first searched all the D's for Drakken. Then she realized her rookie mistake, and fast forwarded to the L's.

"Lee, Leshewitz, Linden, Lion, Lionel, Lippet," She let her fingers do the walking as she checked the directory's white pages. "Ah! Lipsky!"

Then she frowned, it was for 'Mathilde M Lipsky,' not Drew or Theodore or even P. Lipsky. Was that Momma Lipsky's name? She'd never bothered to find out.

Well, there was only one way to find out. Well okay, actually there were several ways to find out. But the easiest way was right in front of her. She slugged a quarter into the slot and dialed in the thankfully local number.

After a few rings it picked up. "Hello?"

Well the voice had the right nasal quality at least.

Here Shego actually had to remember her old timey telephone etiquette. Living the life of a villain, with instant cellular access, in the early twenty-first century, had broken her of giving a crap who she talked to or how, but that probably wouldn't fly if this was indeed Momma Lipsky on the other end.

Her considerations lost her a few seconds, and she heard another, more irritated response, "Hello? Who is this?!"

"Erm, ah… sorry," she coughed, for some reason trying to mask her voice, as though this woman had ever heard it before, "Is this the Lipsky Residence?"

"It is, who's calling?" again the voice was almost painfully adenoidal.

"My name is Kelley Greene," She supplied quickly with her scruffy voice, "I'm with the Department of Education, and am trying to reach a…"

She paused here for theatrical effect, as though consulting some obscure record, "Drew Theodore Paul Lipsky."

"It's Petrekov," the woman on the other end huffed as she corrected. Then she called out into the air on her end, "Drewbie! It's for You!"

Shego had to wince and yank the phone away from the shrill noise of the cry. Wiggling her finger in her ear, she returned it to the receiver. She quickly consulted the phone book page, "If now is not a good time I can call back tomorrow. You're still at, 197 Elmhurst Circle, Apartment #206?"

Then she heard Drakken's characteristic whine at the other end, in the background dimly asking who it was.

"I don't know, some woman from the government!"

"The Government!?"

"Yes! Department of Education! I swear Drewbie, if this about those loans I co-signed!"

Shego hung up the phone before the argument drove her any further towards villainy than she had already traveled.

"Well, that answers that." She muttered, her expression somewhere between a coy smirk and a defeated sneer.

* * *

 _AN: So after a lot of positive comments on a couple of sites, I decided to go ahead and try my hand and expanding this one into a full story with a beginning, middle, and end(?) Let's face it, time travel stories never really end unless the universe implodes. But, yes, expect something more than just "Shego stuck in 1993"_


End file.
